arborphilia

We drove to the mountains again today. I literally felt my lungs expand and start to breathe as soon as I saw the tree line. Once we were out of the revolting sameness of suburbia with its ugly box houses on their neat landscaped treeless blocks, I felt so light.

I love trees. Beyond tree hugging hippy loving. I would live in a tree if I could. I love the way they look, sound, feel, smell. As we walked along in the brisk mountain air the Monkey and I kicked russet maple leaves into the air and the Elfling pushed flowers into her ringlets. We crushed pine needles underfoot and smelt that balsam that makes you want to sit round a bonfire and toast marshmallows.

We bought fudge and I resisted the urge to buy random knicknacks just because they were shiny and sparkled. I fingered homemade knits and wished I had the time to do more of my own. And as we headed back down the mountain, past the stallion, I felt my heart sink as we got further and further away from the trees.

I miss trees.